Strangers in Shorts
by IWarnedYouAboutStairsMan
Summary: Dave meets a very odd guy after he rescues the Strider from thugs. Rating may go up in later chapters


**Notes**

Hey everyone. Yeah I know I should be working on my other stories, but I seem to have gotten writer's block on both of them. So as a kind of break from those I decided to write this. Oh goody another story I get to work on. I'm sorry guys. But anyways I hope you all like this one. I'll try my hardest to come up with more for Angels and Demons and Striders are So Stubborn. But for now enjoy. Please please please review. Your review make me happy. Anyways here's a new story for y'all.

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Your name is Dave Strider and you are really regretting moving to Los Angeles. You had lived here for about a month and already you could see why your brother had told you not to go. But, being the strong headed guy you were, you didn't listen to him. When you were little, you used to want to be just like him. You'd copy everything he did. But as you got older, you chose your own path.

Okay we're getting off topic here. Anyways, you had come to L.A. hoping to make it in the film business. No, not acting. Hell no. You wanted to make your own movies. Of course, life is never easy, and you still hadn't found anyone to sell your ideas to. You were stuck working small gigs as a DJ to survive.

It was after one of these gigs that you were walking home to your tiny apartment. Being new to the city still, you had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up in the shadier parts of town. You walked along cautiously, glancing around to see if you could spot any familiar landmarks. It seemed eerily quiet, the only sounds being your shoes hitting the sidewalk as you went along and maybe a car or two. As you went further though, you could see many not so legal activities going on. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your red hoodie and kept your head down, observing through the dark shades you always wore while still walking. What looked like a drug deal was going on near one building, and a few very sexily dressed chicks were stopping some drivers to have a conversation before getting in the cars.

The further you walked along, the more intense a feeling grew of you being followed. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up some as you sped up. The footsteps behind you sped up as well, and you turned down an alley hoping to lose them.

Unfortunately, it was a dead end. You turned around and were confronted by about three men, all larger than you and each with a makeshift weapon. You really wished you had your sword at the moment, to give you some advantage. Sure, you could fight without it, but you were clearly outnumbered. Not to mention these guys looked almost twice your size.

"Hey, kid. You ain't from around here, are ya?" the middle one said, seeming to be the leader of the three.

You chose not to reply, instead watching them. They moved closer, prompting you to back up against the wall.

"Not gonna talk, are ya? Cat got your tongue?" the largest one said.

"Or maybe this kid's just really, really dumb," the third said.

You might have thrown in a sarcastic retort there, but you felt it wiser to just keep your mouth shut. Usually you'd be rambling by now, insulting them in your ironic and sarcastic way. But talking right now might piss them off, and you definitely did not want that.

"Either way, it doesn't matter. We can still probably get a couple of bucks out of this loser," the leader said.

You swallowed, not really wanting to deal with what would happen next. You wished you could make an escape, but you were trapped. It was just then a voice spoke up behind the three thugs.

"I suggest you leave the poor fellow alone. I don't believe he wants to deal with hooligans like you," the voice said. It had a kind of British tone, and the way he spoke was all kinds of weird. He didn't sound like he was from around here, but the air of confidence in his voice indicated otherwise.

As the thugs moved away, you could see the guy who had saved you from a mugging. Holy shit he looked like a dork. He wore glasses and a white shirt with some kind of green skull on it. He also wore shorts, and a green jacket thing. There were other factors, however, that made him less dorky. He was extremely well built for a guy like him, just the right combination of muscle and height. There was also this kind of rugged attractiveness he had, with the look of someone who had spent most of their life outdoors. And then there were the two pistols he held in his hands, which were currently aimed at your attackers.

The stranger spoke again, his guns still aimed at the thugs. "Now, I suggest you ruffians leave before someone gets hurt."

The three lowlifes took that opportunity to hightail it out of there. They seemed rather frightened of the newcomer. Hah. They could dish it out, but couldn't take it. How ironic.

The stranger then turned to you, holstering his guns. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Holy shit dude. You saved my ass back there. What's your name so I can thank you?" you replied.

"Oh no need. Just being a good citizen. You looked like you were in trouble, so I came to help. The name's Jake English by the way. And what might yours be?"

"Dave Strider."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Strider."

"Just call me Dave, dude. Everyone else does. And same."

"Well, Dave, I hope we can meet again sometime. But for now I must be off. Farewell."

He then did a double pistols thing and a winked at you before walking off. That guy was really fucking weird. But you did hope to see him again. Maybe L.A. wasn't so bad after all. You took a deep breath before finally attempting to head home.


End file.
